Everyone has their own description of what looks beautiful to them. I included. There are many things that are beautiful to me, hands down, like my precious little girl, my husband in a suit, a check written out to me, a clean house, and a Lily of any kind.

I even look beautiful to me when my dress is fitting just right, my pantyhose are not twisting, my hair is falling in the right place, I’m able to walk comfortably in my heels, and my eyeglasses match my outfit.

Now, when I take the time to look a little deeper, I’m reminded of a beauty that is far more attractive, of even greater importance; a beauty that touches the heart of God and to which nothing can compare, the beauty of holiness.

I love Webster’s extensive definition of holiness:

~dedicated to religious use; belonging to or coming from God; consecrated; sacred, spiritually perfect or pure; untainted by evil or sin; sinless; saintly; regarded with or deserving deep respect, awe, reverence, or adoration.

Now, if I were to regard “holiness” as an outfit, it seems that it would take me forever to get dressed, if I could at all. It appears to be such a tall order. Honestly, I’m probably still in my bathrobe and I don’t think I even have anything remotely close to this garment in my closet.

I keep hearing the command “…worship the Lord in the beauty of holiness”. Psalm 29:2 KJV

In order to obey, I’m going to have to go beyond what I see in my closet and in the mirror and see myself, by faith, as one able to adorn that which is attractive to God himself. I can do this, not in my own strength, but by the help of the Holy Spirit, who is himself, a sanctifier.

If I can but offer up myself, bathrobe and all, to the one that is Holy, I can certainly, by His means and approach become wrapped in a garment prepared by Him.

But first, I’ll need a bath. I’ll need to be washed in the blood of the Lamb. This cleansing is sure to take away all my sin, removing my old nasty and dirty clothes of fear, doubt, and disbelief. I’d turn in my garments of worry, discouragement and unforgiveness and exchange them for an outfit I’d look much better in.

Like a child, I’ll allow my Father to bathe me, scrubbing behind the ears and between the toes, careful not to miss any hidden agendas, motives, or selfishness. He’ll get it all. He’s good at this. He's been doing it for a long time. ‘Wash me my Father, until I am whiter than snow.’

He’s already laid out what I’m going to wear, and it’s breath-taking, white and glowing like the sun at its highest point of the day. As He dresses me, it feels so good against my skin, so warm and safe, like nothing I've ever worn before.

“What do you call this outfit, Father? I ask with my big eyes looking up toward heaven. “This, my child is “Holiness.” He replies from the hills. “Holiness.” I repeat. “Yes, I hear Him say, a special garment I’ve prepared for all those who love me.” “You look beautiful”, He assures me, as I model my new clothes. Just then, I turn and look deep into His face, and tears begin to fill my eyes. His image becomes as a mirror, we look just alike! “Holiness.” I whisper, choking through the tears. “I look real good in this." I continue humbly, yet with confidence. “Yes, you do, my child. Yes, you do.”

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